


Expectations

by TimesBeingWhatTheyAre



Series: Where no man has gone before [6]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s01e06 The Naked Time, Episode: s01e09 What Are Little Girls Made Of?, Episode: s01e25 This Side of Paradise, Episode: s01e28 The City on the Edge of Forever, Episode: s02e05 Amok Time, Episode: s02e10 Mirror Mirror, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Romance, Slash, h/c, it got out of control okay, light - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:40:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27672152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimesBeingWhatTheyAre/pseuds/TimesBeingWhatTheyAre
Summary: When Jim first joins The Enterprise, he arrives expecting a Vulcan First Officer, one who has passed through Starfleet and one who will be hard to read and make friends with.Vulcans don’t have emotions. It’s what everyone says.(Or: A K/S story through the first time Jim sees Spock express each emotion)
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock
Series: Where no man has gone before [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012116
Comments: 12
Kudos: 145





	Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> So this began as a 5+1 drabble of Spock and Jim, but they didn't want to stick to my formatting...

“The world is a tragedy to those who feel, but a comedy to those who think.” ~Horace Walpole

* * *

Surprise:

When Jim first joins  _ The Enterprise _ , he arrives expecting a Vulcan First Officer, one who has passed through Starfleet and one who will be hard to read and make friends with.

Vulcans don’t have emotions. It’s what everyone says.

And so when he beams up to the transporter room for the first time, he doesn’t expect much, but Jim is nothing if not courteous and he has learnt the proper culture to greet his First Officer. At the very least he hopes for a civil professional relationship.

He beams in to the transporter room, the sensation of the molecules across his body tingling as usual, and the first thing he sees are the steady eyes of an alien he’s never met before, dressed in Starfleet blue and hands clasped tightly in front of him.

“Welcome aboard, Captain,” Commander Spock says, and Jim smiles slowly, taking his time to inspect the room he finds himself in. He’s been in such rooms before, of course, on board the  _ U.S.S Farragut  _ but this ship is his, and it makes all the difference.

“Thank you, Commander Spock,” he says, absent-mindedly reaching out a hand and then blinking, forcing himself back into the moment and quickly withdrawing the hand. He specifically made sure to look this up, and he’s damn well going to put that knowledge to good use.

“I believe the correct phrase is ‘diftor heh smusma’,” he adds, holding up a  _ ta’al _ sign to his First Officer, the fingers mostly not parted, but it’s the thought that counts (Jim hopes).

He pretends to be entirely confident though, as usual, and stares directly at Commander Spock with a bold grin, and hopes he hasn’t fucked it all up already. He wonders later if it was a deliberate choice of his Commander, or if it’s just Jim’s extreme focus that allows him to distinguish that there is a flash of emotion there; the eyes widen and the eyebrows raise infinitesimally. On a human, Jim would have said he was surprised.

“Sochya eh dif,” he replies, and Jim almost lets himself believe that he was mistaken and no surprise was evident, because the response is immediate and unhesitating.

He winces slightly at the accent though, and laughs quietly. “I guess my accent must offend you,” 

“Incorrect, captain. I cannot be offended,” Spock replies, and Jim smiles.

“I guess not. Perhaps you would be so kind as to accompany me to the bridge?” he inquires (although really it is an order, but it's the first of many such orders that will never be phrased as such). 

“Right away,” Commander Spock agrees, and follows Jim out of the door. His presence behind him is a little odd, disquieting because they do not know each other yet, but somehow steady, and from that flash of surprise, Jim thinks that maybe they will be able to reach slightly more than a professional understanding.

* * *

Irritation:

It’s day two on the ship when Jim sees his second-in-command’s next emotion. 

He’s used the first day to settle in, getting to know his bridge staff a little, giving a ship-wide speech to the rest of his crew (and he can’t believe that he commands 430 people now) and resting in his new quarters.

The second day, therefore, he decides to meet his heads of department. 

It’s not a big crowd, and they easily fit into briefing room 2, and really Kirk wants to talk with them in order to ensure he has the confidence of each one and the general gist of their departments.

Chief Engineer Scotty, Communications Officer Uhura and Dr Piper make their reports duly, and Jim is fairly sure that they are not a group to be easily intimidated, and therefore will come to him if there is any trouble. It doesn’t matter too much in the case of Dr Piper, as he has been informed that the man intends to leave within a few weeks, to be replaced by his old friend Bones, but it is good to know anyway.

“And you, Mr Spock?” he asks his First Officer, who is also his Science Officer. 

“Everything is satisfactory, captain. We will be picking up a few more scientists in the coming weeks, but equipment and personnel is otherwise fit for duty, and I will alert you if this is ever otherwise.”

“Right,” Jim agrees, about to move on, but still a little caught up in his previous thought.

“Commander Spock, I just wanted to ask...it is unusual, is it not, for one individual to hold positions as both First Officer and Science Officer?” he queries, and Spock nods in response.

“Yes, captain, you are correct,”

“And...it is within your capabilities to handle both positions? If not, I’m sure there are many capable-” Jim tries to be delicate about the situation, but eminently does not succeed.

“I am capable, captain. A Vulcan functions differently to humans, and I am therefore more than suitable for my dual roles,” Spock replies, and there is no doubt about it; he cuts off the tail end of Jim’s sentence.

Jim raises an eyebrow at his commander, but there is no reason to doubt his word. All there is is the knowledge that he has, at least slightly, irritated Mr Spock, and although his dark eyes remain inscrutable, a twitch of his eyebrow gives him away (as if the sharper tone had not already).

“Very good, Mr Spock,” Jim nods in acquiescence, and continues with the meeting. He isn’t sure actually, whether Spock would come to him if necessary, but at the very least it does not appear to be a current issue.

Besides, it was a little entertaining to see a flash of emotion.

Jim wonders if it would be unprofessional to attempt to elicit such a reaction again.

* * *

Amusement:

Jim settles in fairly quickly, all things considered. He’s always been a people’s person, the sort who’d prefer to spend every moment of his waking day talking to people, and the ship is no different. He makes sure to memorise every face and name, determined that if these people are to obey his every word, it will be because they want to, and he will honour them for that.

Of course, it wasn’t any effort at all to memorise Mr Spock’s name and face.

He finds himself slipping into more informal patterns around the Vulcan, letting down his guard, although he’s fairly sure that the concept isn’t reciprocated. On the bridge he calls out “Spock!” for the first time, and his First Officer doesn’t even blink before responding (although it’s hard to know if this is permission or simply a lack of wanting to cause a fuss).

After their shift ends, Jim makes sure to catch Commander Spock in the turbolift as he thinks about that moment.

“Commander Spock?” he asks, and the Officer has no hesitation in his reply.

“Yes Captain?” he says, and Jim wonders how to word this.

“I didn’t cause you...offence, did I?”

“What mannerism do you believe may have caused me offence, sir? It is impossible, I assure you again,” Spock inquires, that eyebrow of his raising a little, and Jim is growing pretty used to that expression of slight incredulity.

“I called you ‘Spock’ earlier, without any reference to your titles,” he explains, and the Vulcan eyes him for a moment.

“Yes. It is your prerogative as captain to call me what you wish,” he says, and Jim can’t help but feel that’s definitely not any indication of being happy with it.

The turbolift reaches their floor and they step out, Jim still continuing the conversation.

“But Commander Spock, I want you to wish it as well,” he reiterates, and for the first time, he detects a slight stumble in the blank expression besides him.

“Illogical,” he receives, and Jim smiles.

“Maybe.”

“I believe...there is no issue in you calling me Commander Spock, Mr Spock, or simply Spock. It is my name,” Spock intones, and Jim laughs slightly.

“And do you have a first name, Mr Spock?” he asks.

“I do. However, it is unpronounceable for humans,” the Vulcan discloses, and Jim immediately leaps to the challenge (as if it was in his nature to do anything else).

“Try me,” he says.

“Very well,” Spock replies, perhaps a little sceptical? It’s possible, but also possible that he might be projecting emotions onto his First Officer.

He opens his mouth and out pours a collection of syllables, slurring into the next sound in a constant stream of unrecognisable sounds, and Jim blinks as the word comes to an end.

He assumes.

“Uh-” Jim freezes, and tries his best to copy even the start of the word, but he doesn’t need a raised eyebrow to tell him he is distinctly unsuccessful.

“I suggest that your talents may lie elsewhere captain,” Spock says after a moment of walking in silence, and Jim sighs in resignation. He glances over to the side, and almost does a double-take as he sees the corner of Mr Spock’s mouth most definitely raised a little. There’s a ghost of the emotion he would term ‘amusement’ passing over the man’s face, and Jim suddenly cannot bring himself to regret the embarrassment of his failed pronunciation.

“There’s always next time,” he says optimistically, and a smile curls itself wide across his cheeks.

It remains there even as his First Officer peels off into a different corridor, and Jim wonders if perhaps Spock sometimes smiles wider than that too.

Something to keep in mind.

* * *

Loneliness:

“Ah, this planet reminds me so much of Iowa,” Jim says with a smile, closing his eyes and allowing the gentle breeze to caress his face.

“I do not believe that Iowa had two suns, captain,” Spock replies, glancing up from his tricorder, and Jim allows a laugh to float into the space between them.

“No, it did not, Mr Spock. It did, however, have some lovely cornfields and heat,” he elaborates, and the Vulcan nods solemnly.

“I see,” he says simply, and they lapse back into silence for a little bit, Spock checking the surroundings and Jim ostensibly watching for danger (although it is hard to pretend he’s actually doing such a thing considering his eyes are still closed).

“What’s Vulcan like?” Jim asks Spock suddenly, opening his eyes to roll his lidded gaze over to the First Officer.

“Hot,” Spock says simply, and Jim chuckles again, because that sort of succinct answer is growing familiar to him, although usually it is accompanied by a little bit more information.

“A desert planet, right?” he inquires.

Spock nods. “Indeed, captain. A dry heat, much sunshine, and few arable plants grown. Most people prefer the cities,” 

“How about you, Mr Spock? Do you prefer the cities?” Jim asks, aware that his questions have grown rather more personal in nature than he had perhaps intended.

“I have no preference, since that would indicate a form of illogical emotional attachment,”

“Right, right,” Jim laughs, and Spock twiddles some more with his tricorder, and then looks up as Jim continues. “How about where you grew up?”

“...I grew up close to the cities, but my parents do have a home in the less populated regions,” Spock reveals, and Jim looks up himself, not really having expected any further information.

Spock was a private man, after all. They rarely discussed such matters, and on the whole it tended to wind up with Jim giving a monologue.

“A man of two worlds,” he laughs, and receives no response. Puzzled, he eyes his First Officer and sees the lines of tension caught in his shoulders, and the way he seems strangely out of place in the cornfields that Jim has been revelling in.

“...I will continue with the readings,” Spock changes the topic abruptly, turning away from Jim, and all he can do is stare at the outline of Spock’s solid frame, lit by the golden sun, and think of the Vulcan as suddenly and undeniably lonely.

He’s never considered it before, but Spock is the only Vulcan on the ship. He’s lightyears away from his home (well, they all are, but at least Jim and the others can share their memories of home with one another).

It’s probably been years, maybe decades, since Spock’s really been home.

Jim lets him walk away, but wonders when they will next be passing nearby Vulcan (or if he can engineer them nearby some time soon).

It’s only fair.

* * *

Fear:

Jim stands once again in the transporter room, hands relaxed by his sides, and an expectant smile on his face.

He turns to the engineering ensign stood by the machine, eyes glancing over the now-familiar form of Spock, slightly further back but awaiting their new arrival nonetheless.

“Energise,” he orders, and the ensign obeys without question, pulling down the levers to operate the transportation beam. In front of Jim, the air sparkles with golden drops of light, the molecules slowly coming into form as Bones, scruffy as ever, takes shape on the  _ Enterprise _ .

“-bloody stupid form of transport if you ask me, I don’t know why people think it’s sensible-” he’s muttering too, grumpy and southern and scowling even at the sight of Jim.

“Nice to see you too, Bones,” Jim grins wider, and Bones rolls his eyes back, stepping off of the transportation pad and towards him.

“It would be nicer to see you if you had managed to find me a sensible form of transport,” Bones suggests, and Jim laughs brightly.

“Consider yourself lucky that I didn’t put on the dress shirt,” he grins, stepping forwards himself to slap Bones on the shoulder and drag him in for a quick hug.

Jim draws back and turns around, suddenly remembering Spock standing by.

“Mr Spock! Might I introduce you to our new Chief Medical Officer?” he introduces, motioning towards Bones dramatically, perhaps a little over-enthusiastic with his joy.

“That would be appreciated,” Spock replies in his monotone, and Jim can’t help his own eye-roll at the mockery he  _ knows _ is behind that deadpan, and pretends as though he doesn’t notice.

“Spock, this is Doctor Leonard McCoy. McCoy, Commander Spock,” he smiles, and Bones steps forward with a hand held out for a handshake.

“Commander Spock,” McCoy says cordially, and Spock looks down at the hand, then back up at its owner.

“Doctor McCoy,” he says simply, inclining his head slightly, and Jim claps his hands together, breaking up the beginnings of an awkward atmosphere. Bones lowers his hand with a look of mingled sheepishness and anger, so he maneuvers them out into the corridor, setting a pace for the mess room. If he knows Bones, the man won’t want a tour; he’ll want some decent food.

They talk for a while, Spock occasionally remarking on something, but only when invited. As expected, Bones is delighted to get his hands on some breakfast/lunch (although less delighted by the synthesiser’s idea of taste, but Jim figures he’s going to have to learn to live with it).

“So how’ve you been, Jim? Keeping well?”

“As well as can be expected. It’s been a busy trip already!”

“Well you can be sure that there’ll be no more of those hare-brained tactics now I’m here. Mr Spock may not care enough to stop you, but I sure as hell will!” McCoy threatens, and Jim cracks a smile.

On his other side, he notices that Spock has stiffened, but doesn’t think much of it.

“Speaking of, I’m going to need to run a physical on you, just for my own records,” Bones says, and Jim nods with a thread of resignation. He never could avoid Bones’ probing for long.

“I’m also going to need you to come in, Mr Spock,” he addresses the Vulcan, who has been silently sitting at their table for a while now.

“I believe that is not necessary,” Spock says stiffly, and Jim frowns, paying a little more attention.

“You bet your pointy ears it is! Besides, it’s mandatory for all Starfleet members,” Bones replies indignantly, then looks down at his watch and swears.

“Only day one, and I’m already late,” he mutters, and Jim smiles fondly, letting him leave as he turns his attention to his First Officer, who is unusually silent. And tense.

“Spock, are you- is everything alright?” Jim asks cautiously, and Spock stares down at his food.

“I am in perfect health, captain,” he replies, but there’s definitely something out of the ordinary there.

“Yes, but are you alright?” he presses, to no avail.

Jim pauses.

“Is this about Bones?” he ventures, and is rewarded with a twitch of the jaw. “It is, then…” he trails off, brow furrowed in confusion.

“He’s well-qualified,” Jim offers, and Spock stands up suddenly.

“I must be on my way,” he says abruptly, and walks away with his empty bowl and partially full plate, away from Jim and the conversation.

“Spock, wait!” he calls out, following him out, inspecting his frame in confusion, but unable to deny himself the impulse to help.

And suddenly it hits him. The tense shoulders, the unfamiliar gleam in his First Officer’s eye- Spock is scared. He’s never seen it before, that’s why he doesn’t recognise it, but he wonders how he missed this anyway.

He pulls them both into a briefing room, and sits down. Spock sits stiffly opposite, and he wonders how to begin.

“There’s no problem in logical fears,” he tries, and Spock does not say a word in response. Jim sighs.

“Spock...I’ve seen your records,” he says bluntly, figuring he has nothing to gain by beating around the bush. “I know that you were in medical facilities frequently until the age of five, and I gather that perhaps doctors haven’t always treated you ideally, but…”

He glances up to see if his words are having any effect on Spock. It’s impossible to tell.

“I vouch for Doctor McCoy. If you can trust me, you can trust him, and I do hope that you trust me,” he declares, standing up himself and walking over to Spock’s seat, placing a casual hand on his shoulder despite his knowledge that Vulcans dislike physical contact.

“I expect to hear that you’ve visited med bay by the end of the week,” Jim says into the silence, softer than perhaps he intended, but there’s no one there to tell on him.

He leaves the room, and hopes that he did something right.

* * *

Embarrassment:

“Can I come in, Spock?” Jim asks quietly, buzzing the door to his Commander’s quarters.

He doesn’t hear an answer (but then again, he wasn’t really expecting one), but the door opens up and he willingly steps inside the darkened room.

It’s hot in there, a dry heat that makes Jim remember suddenly that Spock is from a desert planet, and he pauses just inside the threshold to give his eyes a moment to adjust.

“Is there something you need, captain?” Spock asks and Jim squints to make him out. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, in some kind of dressing gown, and he can almost feel himself sweating at the thought of wearing something like that in this heat.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says instead of voicing any of his thoughts, and finds himself strangely mesmerised as Spock unfolds into standing in a fluid motion, reaching across the room to turn up the lights.

He was wrong. Spock isn’t in a dressing gown, he’s in some kind of Vulcan robe, although it doesn’t seem as ornamented as some of the robes Jim has seen ambassadors wearing.

“My meditation robes,” Spock says into the oddly tense air, clearly realising the source of Jim’s distraction, and he blinks, tries to refocus.

“Did I interrupt?” he stalls, and Spock inclines his head slightly. “My apologies,” 

“Accepted, captain. Was there something you wished to discuss?” the Vulcan asks, and Jim tries his best for a reassuring smile. It normally comes easy to him, but this one seems a little forced.

“I think we need to talk about what happened today,” he says simply, and Spock looks like he’s trying to hold back a grimace of his own.

“I have given you my report,” he replies, and Jim meets his officer’s eyes and raises an eyebrow at him.

He takes a chair, and Spock follows suit.

“Yes, but there were a couple of things that perhaps shouldn’t make it to the official reports,” he hints.

“Spock, you are my First Officer, and I cannot have you compromised,” he says sternly, trying to get through with logic, and sighing as Spock continues to pretend as though nothing had occurred.

“Okay, let’s stop this act,” he finally says. “You said that when you feel friendship for me, you feel ashamed,” he quotes, and can physically see Spock’s walls going up until he can pretend to be a pillar of inscrutability. 

“That is correct,” Spock announces, and Jim leans across the table.

“Spock...I say this as a friend,” he inserts, and keeps a steady gaze even as something flickers at the mention of friendship “I don’t want you to feel ashamed of having feelings. In fact, it makes me happy to know that you consider me a friend, because I consider you one,” 

“I do not have emotions. I am Vulcan,” Spock insists, even though there’s an ugly green flush tinting the tops of his ears in embarrassment.

“You don’t have to pretend around me,” Jim smiles softly at him, trying to break that barrier.

Spock drops his gaze to the table, and Jim thinks that might be the closest thing to a concession that he’s going to get.

He waits a minute more, just in case, then stands up quietly.

“I’ll leave you to your meditation,” he tells Spock, pausing at the door to dim the lights back to how it was when he first entered, and walking out of the tense atmosphere, strangely relieved at having the conversation. It looked like there might be quite a few such conversations in the future, but Jim is growing more and more convinced that it will be worth it to have Spock as a friend.

Distantly, he wondered if it was weird to be so invested, but the thought was easily dismissed, alongside his lingering concerns when Spock showed up on the bridge for shift the next day without any indication that the previous day had taken place.

Yes, it was worth it.

* * *

Wonder:

Jim has learnt to treasure his burgeoning friendship with Spock over the past few months, and he always enjoys and is honoured by the Vulcan’s demonstration of any emotions. He’s noticed, too, that there is one emotion that he has no problem sharing with the whole deck.

Curiosity.

(And, on its heels, wonder, although Jim isn’t so sure everyone spots that one).

He sees it on every mission, with every anomaly they come across, and can’t help but be mesmerised by it. Spock really is a one of a kind.

It’s only slightly with Spock in mind that Jim sets the viewing screen to show the planet they’re leaving, cargo having been delivered. It really is a beautiful planet, covered in greenery and home to a wide variety of abnormally large species (Jim had half-expected their landing party to run straight into the most fierce of which, but for once they were lucky) and the bridge is transfixed by the sight.

None more so than Mr Spock.

Jim recalls the enthusiasm (well for him) with which he examined different parts of the planet; he’d been fascinated by the gravity and also by the plant life, but also the role of insects in the extremely different ecosystem and perhaps how its twin orbit with another planet had affected it-

He glances over to Spock with a grin, and is amused to see that he turns to his scanner the second the planet is taken off the main screen. He’s rather predictable in that way, and Jim pauses for a moment with a humorous thought crossing his mind.

“Mr Spock...I’ve been wondering,” he says as they pull away, the planet beginning to fade into the vastness of space behind them as they enter warp speed.

“Yes captain?” the Science Officer responds, sitting up a little as though to demonstrate that he is alert, but not taking his eyes off his scanner.

A rush of fondness races through Jim, and he smiles, perhaps a little too genuinely, because there’s definitely a look being levelled his way by Uhura, but he’s good at ignoring those.

“Isn’t curiosity an emotion?” he asks, the words light but the answer interests him.

Spock appears to give his words a moment of contemplation. Jim thinks that if they weren’t on the bridge then Spock might just bandy back a straight out “No,” but he does like to put up some form of appearance on the bridge.

“Curiosity is not a destructive emotion captain, but rather a motivation that inspires discovery,” Spock replies, and Jim nods overenthusiastically, sarcasm clearly shining out of the gesture.

“Of course, Mr Spock. Highly logical,” he says, and Spock raises an eyebrow, finally deigning to look his way.

“Thank you captain,” he responds, definitely aware of the sarcasm and choosing to ignore it. Jim grins wider, perfectly happy to press his point home sometime later, and allows Spock to return to his work.

Clearly, there’s something fascinating about it. 

Even if Jim isn’t really sure what he’s even studying. 

* * *

Anger:

Normally, Jim is very good at knowing what’s going on within the walls of his ship. It’s a big place sure, but self-contained and he’s the captain. He may not always know the gossip, but he makes sure to learn all of the important details, and what the crew don’t tell him, Scotty is pretty good at passing on.

He rarely gets involved though, and so its a little surprising to him when he literally runs into an ongoing incident (not that he realises it at first). He’s distracted as he walks down the corridor, and so he doesn’t see the Ensign until she’s crashed into him.

“Oh, my apologies,” he smiles apologetically, glancing down at her and instinctively reaching out to hold her shoulder as he realises that she’s in tears.

“Ensign, is there something the matter?” he asks gently, since he can see clearly that there is, but people don’t always want to stop and talk. Her antennae are quivering in distress, and Jim pauses for a moment to be thankful that he didn’t injure her in their small bump.

“N-no sir, sorry sir,” she stutters out, clearly sounding distressed, but pushing past his protective grip, fleeing away down the corridor, but not getting very far before a command stops her in her tracks.

“Ensign Zh’Shorok!” Spock’s deep voice echoes down the corridor, and Kirk watches, bemused, as the Vulcan walks up and past him, towards the ensign, who is clearly dressed in science blue. She must be one of his science officers, Jim reasons, but that doesn’t make him less concerned.

Spock stands behind her and says “Come back to my lab.”

She doesn’t move.

Spock says something else to her, quiet enough for Jim not to hear it, and she relents, moving back behind him as they return back the way they came. This time he nods to Jim as he moves past, offering a respectful “Captain,” which Jim nods back to.

Spock’s lab door opens, and closes behind them.

The encounter doesn’t last long, but it stays for longer in Jim’s mind.

He asks Spock about it later, at one of their increasingly regular chess games, and gets to see Spock stiffen in response.

“With respect, captain, I am handling it,” he says, long fingers unnaturally still, and Jim leaves it there.

In fact, when he gets more pieces of the puzzle a week later, he doesn’t even notice. He’s just going through some of his paperwork- most of it is the usual; equipment replacements, one or two transferral requests, but there’s also an official complaint logged in to a new file.

All of his senior officers have the authority to do it, but it’s particularly unusual because it has been logged by Spock, who has not yet used the system whilst Jim’s been on board. He frowns and opens the file, reading through the information, and then leaning forwards and requesting Spock’s presence.

A buzz at his door sounds almost immediately, and Jim startles, realising that Spock must have been in his quarters, and feeling a little stupid.

The buzz goes again and Jim calls out “Open,” allowing his First Officer entrance.

“Ah, Spock, perfect. I hope you weren’t busy?” he says cordially, motioning to the chair on the other side of his table, and Spock sits down elegantly.

“What is it that you require, captain?” Spock asks, and Jim spins around his PADD holding the reprimand.

“I wanted to discuss this Spock,” he says simply, and watches as he takes a moment to read it through.

“I see,” Spock says, inscrutable as ever, and Jim rolls his eyes.

“Commander, I am trying to understand. You’ve shown yourself to be quite lenient with the complaint system, and so I fail to see why you have decided to use it here for ‘usage of derogatory language’. You know that this can damage a career?” he presses, and Spock nods, seemingly placable.

“Yes captain,” 

He does not look up at Jim.

“And you still felt it suitable to use as a chastisement simply for language,” JIm checks, and again Spock nods.

Jim waits a moment to see if there will be any elaboration, but Spock is unforthcoming, and Jim sighs.

“Right, I’m going to take this off the official file,” he decides, turning to his computer and glancing up. “Unless there’s anything further you’d like to add?”

“No captain,” Spock says, voice as cool as ever, but something in it makes Jim look for a moment at his First Officer’s face as the Vulcan turns to go, and its this that allows him to see something unfamiliar staring at him from within dark eyes, and gives away that for some reason, Spock is furious.

It stuns him somewhat, long enough that Spock is able to walk out of the room, and it's also the first time that the man has ever left without official permission to leave.

Worse still, Spock refuses to talk about it the next day, and won’t take Jim up on any of their chess games for a while.

* * *

Upset:

After they beam back to the ship, following the mildly disastrous encounter with Dr Korby, even after Spock brings up the robot Jim’s words  _ on the bridge _ \- Jim can’t get it out of his head.

It was the first thing that came to mind when he was on the planet. Jim hadn’t known for weeks that Spock was only half-Vulcan, and it was really only when he’d checked out Spock’s medical file shortly after Bones’ arrival that he’d learnt it.

The news had somewhat baffled Jim, because Spock certainly didn’t act half-human, but there had also been an incident report from the Academy that listed an altercation Spock had been in with some other cadets. That had been a little startling too, but the listing of the word ‘half-breed’ in the report had gone some way to explaining his Officer to him.

He had decided quickly not to mention it unless Spock did, and so down on Exo III, it had sprung to mind as a way to hint to Spock that the robot was not him.

It had worked.

And Jim thought he had also actually managed to upset Spock.

It’s the reason he’s now standing outside Spock’s door, hand raised to the buzzer, but not quite daring to press it. It’s a stupid thing to be caught up on really.

Jim presses the buzzer.

“You may enter,” Spock says smoothly, and Jim steps through as the door opens, the room slightly too hot for comfort as usual.

“Good evening Mr Spock,” he greets, and Spock replies cordially.

“Good evening, captain,”

“I’m off duty, Spock. You can call me Jim,” he tries, and Spock says nothing, merely turning to face him from his seat at his desk.

“Do you require something, captain?” Spock asks eventually, clearly seeing that Jim does not intend to break the silence.

“Well, I rather thought you might require something, Mr Spock,” he says, and Spock raises an eyebrow calmly.

“Indeed?” he asks, and Jim leans forwards with a nod.

“Yes. An apology,”

Spock is quiet for a beat too long for his response to be entirely natural. “Nothing of the sort is necessary,” he says, a little stiffly, and Jim knows that it means Spock is lying.

“I thought Vulcans couldn’t lie?” he queries out loud, and regrets it as his friend’s face shuts down completely.

“We do not,” Spock replies, and says nothing more.

Jim is learning though, and he’s learning that Spock’s silences are where he is most easily interpreted.

“Spock, I hope you know...I chose that because I thought it would be something subtle enough for the robot to pick up on, and obvious enough that you would realise it wasn’t me. Because I would never say that to you Spock, never of my own free will,” he says.

“I understand,” Spock says, and it sounds like- well, a truth but maybe not all of it.

“This is important to me, Spock. I really want to make sure that you understand that I would never dislike you or anyone for their race, or anything other than their personality,” Jim cracks a smile at the end, but it fades in the face of Spock’s stony outlook.

“Is there something you’d like to say?” he asks.

“No captain,” Spock replies, just as calmly and unemotionally as he has been for days. Weeks.

“Okay, is there something relevant to this conversation that you think I should know?” Jim presses. “Because it sure seems like it,”

He is raising his voice. He didn’t intend to, but Jim feels a lot like he’s being judged for something that he hasn’t done.

“Nothing that you don’t know,” Spock says somewhat cryptically, and Jim frowns, his anger fading a little.

“Did I- do something to you, Spock? Something to make you angry?” he asks, and Spock looks back at him.

“No,” he says.

“Explain this to me then, Mr Spock. Explain to me why you’ve been ignoring me, why you refuse to be friends with me- why you’re acting like this!” Jim yells, slamming his arms down on Spock’s desk and breathing heavily, inches away from Spock.

“I have not ignored you. And I have no emotions therefore we cannot be-”

“Spock, try it on someone else. You know I don’t believe that. Just tell me what I’ve done!” Jim cuts him off, and they are both silent for several moments.

Jim sinks down into the chair. He’s certain that there is something now.

“Is this related to that report?” he asks quietly, all anger gone from his voice.

“Yes,” Spock says in return, just as quietly. Jim jolts his head up, having not expected an actual answer from his First Officer, and looks at him.

He reviews the incident in his mind, wondering where he could possibly have-

Oh.

“Spock?” Jim says lightly.

Spock inclines his head.

“What was the ‘derogatory language’ that you cited in your complaint?” he asks, hoping that his suspicion is wrong. 

Spock hesitates, and Jim knows he’s right.

“Do you wish me to repeat it?” Spock asks, and Jim wonders for a moment, then shakes his head.

“Just tell me, could his comments be classified as xenophobic and hate speech?” Jim asks, and Spock locks gaze with him as he nods.

Jim wilts into his chair.

“Spock damnit, why didn’t you tell me that? I thought you just meant that he swore or something!” Jim sighs, massaging his forehead with a palm, and Spock stiffens.

“I was not aware that you would be inclined to act if you knew the specific content,” Spock says and it sends a chill down Jim’s spine.

“You thought- I wouldn’t report him for saying something xenophobic?” he checks, and Spock raises an eyebrow, something glinting in his eyes, and Jim pauses as he thinks of something else.

“Has that happened before?” he asks.

“Yes,” Spock says, and Jim feels burning anger as he realises that Spock is upset by the conversation, and upset by whatever incident had occurred before.

“Who?” he growls out, fists curling into a ball as he wonders how fast he can get them demoted. Or kicked out of Starfleet.

“It is of no consequence,” Spock tells him, but Jim can’t be content with that, not when it affected Spock’s report or when it made his friend ignore him for weeks on end because he thought-

“Alright Spock,” Jim says, against his better judgement but knowing that he will never get the answer out of Spock if he doesn’t want to share. “For future reference though, I would like you to report these things, and tell me exactly what happened. I will not tolerate it on my ship,”

Spock inclines his head slightly, and Jim sighs, forcing the matter out of his mind and sitting up to smile a little wanly at Spock.

“Well, I’ll be reinstating that complaint on Ensign Thompson. I’m assuming the issue in question was Ensign Zh’Shorok?” he checks, and Spock nods.

“Among others,” he mentions, and Jim grits his teeth, making a mental note of that, but deciding not to push the conversation further. Even if he’s fairly sure that Spock himself falls into that category of ‘others’. He glances up to eye his friend, then carefully slides the chess set into the centre of the table to demonstrate that he will let Spock deal with it.

“If that’s all cleared up,” he smiles slightly. “Fancy a game of chess?”

“That would be satisfactory, Jim,” Spock says, beginning to set up the game.

Jim is probably going to lose, because his head is still in a bit of a spin, but he’s glad to get his best friend back again.

* * *

Content:

“Spock...were you really happy only on Omicron Certi III?” Jim decides just to leap straight into the question that’s been bugging him, and Spock concentrates hard on the chess board.

Jim stares at him and waits for an answer that he isn’t sure will come. He isn’t sure what he’ll do with one when he gets it.

“Jim,” Spock says quietly, and Jim snaps his eyes up to meet Spock’s own.

“Yes?” he croaks, his throat suddenly dry. He clears it.

“I was- happy. I was able to permit myself to feel- happiness,” Spock explains haltingly, and Jim is aware of the horrid heat that suffesses his cheeks and burns at the back of his eyes.

“Spock I-”

“I am not finished,” Spock cuts him off, and Jim falls uncharacteristically quiet. It’s not like Spock to interrupt, nor to discuss emotions in any way, and Jim hopes that he doesn’t feel like he owes him something.

“I was happy on the planet. However, I find I am content here,” he says softly, staring at Jim in the eyes, and Jim can’t help the small smile that creeps fondly onto his lips.

“I’m glad,” he replies quietly, and they stare at each other for a moment, Jim trying to remember every detail of Spock sitting opposite him, wearing his Vulcan robes that he liked to wear off duty, hands folded neatly in front of him, and eyes softer than Jim has ever seen them.

“I’m glad,” he repeats. 

Because he believes him.

Jealous: 

“Hey Spock,” Jim calls out cheerfully, swinging through the doors to their shared apartment brightly, and beaming down at his friend over the top of the paper bags he carries.

“Captain,” Spock acknowledges without turning around from his work. 

Jim rolls his eyes playfully and sets the bags down on their little table, turning around to eye Spock. 

“What do I have to do to get you to call me Jim,” he asks rhetorically, and Spock finally sets down his tools (is he using a soldering iron? Jim can’t really tell) to turn and face him.

“Resign,” Spock says blankly, and Jim laughs loudly, the response unexpected and yet entirely Spock.

“Somehow, I doubt even that would stop you,” he teases fondly, and walks closer to peer at the small circuits running along Spock’s desk, absent-mindedly placing his hand on the Vulcan’s upper back. “How’s it coming along?” 

“As expected,” Spock replies, a little quieter than usual, and Jim frowns, eyeing his friend carefully.

“And you?” he asks, as though they don’t spend every moment of their free time together these days.

“I am fine,” Spock says abruptly, and Jim frowns again.

“You sure?” he asks, eyes scanning Spock’s lean face for deceit. “You look a little pale,”

“I always look pale. That is my natural skin tone,” Spock deadpans, and Jim can’t help but roll his eyes in a little flutter of motion.

“You know what I mean,” he retorts, reaching out a hand and placing it across Spock’s brow, catching the edges of Spock’s eyebrows against his calloused palm.

“You feel warm,” he says, and Spock jerks back a little, standing up smoothly until he’s the one peering down at Jim.

“I assure you Jim, I am well,” he says again, and Jim is glad to see that his skin looks a little darker at least. 

“Okay then,” he replies, not fully convinced but also not in the mood to argue with a stubborn Vulcan. “I got us some stuff!”

“Indeed,” Spock says drily, and Jim swats him on the arm as he strides back over to the table to present his purchases.

“I have some vegetables for soup, some bread, and even-” he pauses for dramatic effect. “Some chocolate,”

“You are aware that I do not consume chocolate,” Spock informs him, and Jim quirks a mischievous smile.

“Never, Mr Spock?” he asks lightly, pulling out the small bar slowly and waving it in front of his friend’s face.

“That is correct, captain,” Spock replies, and Jim shrugs. 

“Not even if I were to be drinking some alcohol at the time?” he checks, and Spock folds his arms as he is wont to do.

“It would be even more imperative for one of us to remain non-incapacitated,” he reasons, and Jim smiles a little, knowing that he’s not going to win this one.

“I’ll see what you think of it later,” he says, and Spock raises an eyebrow.

“My opinion will not change,” 

“Of course, Mr Spock,” Jim says and tucks it away anyway. “I’ll get to work on this soup then, do you want to do any more work tonight?” 

He bustles around the tiny table, yanking out an old chopping board and an extremely sharp knife (Spock had insisted on sharpening it himself as a potential weapon when they had discovered that the windows did not lock), and setting in on making the pair of them a rudimentary meal.

“It matters little whether I desire to work or not, it is only logical to utilise all available time to complete the machinery,” Spock tells him, and goes to sit back over at the desk. Jim doesn’t bother arguing.

He does, however, make quick work of the vegetables, and fries them up lightly, aware of their limited fuel, and sticks them on to boil. He sets up the table for the two of them as well, because these are all tasks that Jim has become proficient in over the past weeks.

Then he picks up the newspaper and relaxes for the time it takes for the soup to cook, occasionally humming under his breath, and everytime he notices, he looks up to see if he’s bothering Spock or not, but it appears not. Sometimes, Jim gets stuck in his glances and instead finds himself admiring the fierce concentration of Spock’s brow or the elegant motion of his fingers, and has to forcefully shake himself away again, but Spock never looks up.

Jim drags his gaze away again for the umpteenth time and finds that his soup is almost boiling over. 

“Shit-” he curses, jumping up and rushing over to save it, pulling the pot off the heat quickly before they can waste any of it, and cursing again as a little slops over the side and catches his hand, burning hot on his bare skin.

He puts the pot down quickly, and turns to the sink, only to crash straight into Spock’s muscular form, standing right behind him where there had been empty space moments before.

“Sorry-” he says instinctively, cradling his injury as Spock stares down at his hand, before Spock is grabbing his wrist and pulling him over to the sink, turning on the cold water and thrusting Jim’s hand under it, then filling up a bowl with the cold liquid and turning off the tap, sinking Jim’s hand into that instead and guiding them both over to the table.

“Oops?” Jim offers quietly, smiling up at his First Officer as he sinks into the proffered chair.

“I did not consider it probable for you to injure yourself on so menial a task,” Spock says, and Jim chuckles, leaning back in his chair.

“Neither did I, Spock, neither did I,” he bemoans.

Spock goes over to the soup, somewhere behind Jim’s back, and he’s grateful for the served bowl in front of him moments later.

“I’ve got bread too-” Jim begins, and then the bread is placed down on the table and Spock goes to sit on the other side. He shakes his head with a smile, and gazes at Spock. “I think you read my mind,”

“I was not touching you, Jim. It would be impossible for us,” Spock says, and Jim tucks into his soup, watching Spock to judge his reaction too, and Spock seems to enjoy his meal as he starts to eat.

“You know Spock,” Jim says quietly as they eat. “I’m glad that out of everyone to be stuck here with, it was you,”

“It would only be logical for me to come. I am your First Officer,” Spock replies, and Jim laughs fondly.

“Yes, yes you are Spock. And even if you weren’t, I’d want to be stuck here with you,” he says. It comes dangerously close to a confession, but in their private little bubble, Jim finds he doesn’t want to take it back.

“Jim, I-” Spock says, equally quietly, and Jim thinks that it sounds a little like a confession himself, and he leans forwards, waiting for the answer and-

A knock sounds on the door.

“I’ll get it!” Jim says quickly, jumping out of his chair and rushing over to the door as his adrenaline simmers down a little, wondering what Spock was about to say.

“Edith,” he says, opening the door to find the woman standing on their doorstep.

“Hi Jim,” Edith greets. “I hope I’m not interrupting,” she peeks around him slightly to where their meal sits cooling on the table. Spock isn’t eating it either.

“It’s fine,” Jim says instead of lying and saying ‘no’ or daring to say ‘yes’. “Is everything alright?” 

“Oh yes, don’t worry. I was just hoping you might fancy going out tomorrow night?” she asks, and Jim blinks.

“Of course!” he smiles, and pretends like he feels the same electricity with Edith as he does Spock.

“Great!” she replies. “There’s a Cary Grant movie on, you could take me to that?” 

“Who’s that?” Jim asks in confusion, and she giggles.

“Sounds like a date,” he says instead of asking for an explanation. “Pick you up at eight?”

“Perfect,” Edith smiles, and they both lean in for a kiss; her lips as soft as usual. 

“See you then,” Jim says, and she walks away. Jim sighs lightly and turns around to catch a glimpse of an unusual expression on Spock’s face, something conflicted and unexpectedly angry on the usually gentle man.

“Is everything alright, Mr Spock?” he asks, and Spock nods, his expression blank again.

“Of course, captain. Our soup is, however, getting cold,” he says, and Jim comes to sit down again. They finish the meal and do not talk about whatever it was that Spock might have said, and the things that Jim did say.

And it’s only when Jim’s lying on the hard bed that night, light in the corner left on as Spock continues to work, that he realises that Spock had appeared jealous.

* * *

Worried: 

After Edith Keeler’s death, Jim is a bit of a mess. He doesn’t admit it to anyone but Spock and Bones, but the alpha crew are suspiciously nice to him for a few weeks so he’s not sure how great a job he really does of hiding it.

The thing is- she was good. She was wholeheartedly good in a way that Jim admired deeply, and he’s always been the sort to freely give his love away (and never the sort to deserve to get it back).

And he doesn’t kill her, but he stops her from being saved, and really, isn’t that close enough?

So yes, for a few weeks he doesn’t sleep well, and doesn’t always manage to eat much. It’s nothing compared to the suffering that Edith would have been able to avert, and nothing compared to the suffering of her death at so young an age.

It takes Jim a few days to force himself to believe that she’s gone, then a few after that spent trying not to hate himself for the role he played in it. He grapples with the guilt and sudden pervading lack of confidence in his decisions for a while, and finally, finally, manages to persuade himself that it was a necessary action.

It’s the middle of the night when he decides it’s probably time to forgive himself, or at least forget it for a while, and he’s suddenly blindingly aware that he hasn’t done beyond the minimum since they returned, and it’s bound to all be piling up. Jim thinks for a minute that he can just get it done in the morning, but the thought of it weighs on him enough to turn on his computer (again for the first time in weeks). 

His inbox should be full. Full with reports to sign and send, memos to address and requests to fill, and yet it is empty.

He frowns, and presses his comm.

“Kirk to Bones,” he says into it, voice a little husky from lack of recent use and sleep. He wonders belatedly if his friend is asleep.

“Jim, is everything okay? You’re not bleeding out or anything?” Bones’ voice crackles through the comm, and Jim pauses for a moment to think about that response.

“No, everything’s fine?” he replies, side-tracked, and Bones snorts.

“Oh okay. And here I was thinking that you weren’t going to break your radio-silence for anything less than a medical emergency,” he snarks, and Jim sighs, a little hurt but also a little fond. He knows this is how Bones shows affection.

“Yes, you’re right, Bones. I’m sorry,” he says quietly, and there’s a moment of silence.

“Well now I really think something’s wrong,” Bones says, and Jim smiles faintly.

“Did ya want something? Or just to disturb my beauty sleep?” the comm prompts Jim, and he startles.

“Ah, I wanted to ask if there was a fault or something with my computer,”

There’s more silence, which Jim thinks can be interpreted as ‘thinking time’.

“Do I look like Scotty to you?” Bones says, and Jim realises that it was more like disbelief.

“I just-” Jim starts, then stops. “Did somebody fill in my reports for me?” he tries a more direct route.

“Are you blind? Don’t answer that,” Bones says. “Jim, it’s that damn hobgoblin of yours. I thought you knew,” 

“Spock?” Jim blinks. There’s a crackle from the communicator, and he thinks this one means a snort. Bones is fond of those.

“Yes Spock, or maybe that other Vulcan on this ship, you never know,” he says, and Jim doesn’t respond properly, a little caught up in the actual conversation to pay attention to Bones’ acerbic nature.

“Spock- did my reports?” he asks, and Bones sighs down the comm, finally turning on the screen. Jim recoils slightly from the sudden light and does his best to pretend that he isn’t sitting there shirtless and bewildered. He’s fairly sure neither of them believe it.

“Jim, for fuck’s sake. It’s 1am. Go to sleep,” he says, and Jim nods like it means agreement.

“Don’t give me that look,” Bones says because he knows better.

“I- I will. Thanks Bones,” he tries to smile, and it doesn’t quite work, but Bones returns it with a real one and flicks off the conversation.

Jim sits in the dark for a moment.

Then he rolls out of bed, puts on a shirt, and knocks on Spock’s adjoining door.

“Spock, are you awake?” he asks the closed surface, hearing his voice echo back to him around the bathroom.

“Yes captain,” Spock says, and opens the door. His eyebrow is raised, but he stands aside to let Jim pad into his room, and then waits patiently as Jim takes a seat and finally looks up at his friend.

“Spock- I’m sorry,” Jim begins, and Spock takes a seat opposite him, his hands folded formally in his lap, and for all Jim wants this to be a serious conversation, there is something hilarious about his friend’s stiff posture whilst wearing what Jim knows to be the Vulcan equivalent of pyjamas. He struggles to hold back a smile.

“You have no reason to be sorry, captain,” Spock responds solemnly, and Jim glances up at his eyes again and immediately becomes a little more sombre.

“I do. I’ve neglected my duties as captain, and that’s not fair on you or the crew,” Jim says. Spock holds his gaze.

“You are not at fault for your emotions,” Spock replies, which Jim raises an eyebrow to. It’s not like Spock to excuse illogical human emotions.

“You are human. You are grieving. I am aware that this is a necessary process,” Spock elaborates, clearly seeing the confusion in Jim’s face. He’s about to find something to respond with when Spock continues.

“Although I must admit to finding a certain degree of… inadequacy in this situation,” he says.

Jim parses over the words, and leans forwards without thinking to put his hand comfortingly on Spock’s.

“Spock, there is nothing more you could have done. I wanted to thank you actually, for doing my reports, and, you know, putting up with me,” Jim smiles self-deprecatingly, and Spock stares back, eyes wider than usual and open in a way that the captain rarely sees.

“I-” Spock begins and then actually swallows. “It is my duty to ensure the continued well-being of this ship...and its crew,” he adds, a little more quietly, and Jim feels his own expression soften in face of such obvious care.

“I’m sorry to have worried you, Spock,” he says gently, smiling at his First Officer, and Spock seems to return his smile for a moment, then abruptly sits up straight again and retracts his hand from under Jim’s.

His face is flushed a little darker. Jim isn’t sure what’s at fault.

“You did not worry me captain. Vulcans are incapable of-”

“Yes, Mr Spock. Quite,” Jim says, summoning up a smile from somewhere, and even though he doesn’t feel quite as devastated over the loss of Edith right this second, there is an odd sensation of loss anyway.

“I’ll see you in the morning?” he checks, standing up and walking over to the door.

“Yes Jim,” Spock mutters in response, and Jim glances back to see him frowning at the table, brow furrowed in obvious consternation. He almost stops to try and help but-

Spock wouldn’t appreciate it. Whatever his worries are, they are now his own, and Jim isn’t sure if there’s anything else he can do.

He closes the door behind him.

Grief:

Jim opens his eyes to the bright white of medbay, and tries to remember why he’s there this time.

“Jim?” Bones asks, appearing to one side, and Jim tries to focus in on him, feeling a little blurry for some reason.

“...Bones?” Jim replies sluggishly, and receives a beaming smile. It only lasts for a moment before it’s replaced by something approaching anger, but Jim knows what he saw.

“You bloody idiot,” Bones swears at him, then reaches down and clasps him into a tight hug. Jim smiles and returns the hug, recalling slowly their trip to Vulcan, and something going wrong at Spock’s wedding and-

“I didn’t kill him, did I?” Jim asks suddenly, his eyes widening as he realises that his continued existence is at odds with the rules of a ‘duel to the death’.

“No, Jim. I gave you a paralyser to simulate death,” Bones says, his face lined with relief and weary with a long day of experience.

“Good thinking,” Jim says, a little more quietly. He’s beginning to realise that there’s a slight rasp in his voice, one that isn’t just his ears playing up, and his throat also faintly aches.

He brings a hand up to massage the area, wincing as he probes some sore spots. Bones slaps his hand away with a scowl.

“Don’t be an idiot. They aren’t gonna heal if you insist on messing with them again,” he scolds Jim, who chuckles lightly and allows his head to rest back on the pillow. He’s quite tired too.

“I see that solution of yours took a while to kick in,” he comments, and thinks back to a fuzzy memory of Spock, standing tall over him, and the sheer strength in his frame that he usually attempts to conceal around humans.

“Much longer and it wouldn’t have been a solution at all,” Bones comments, his tone somewhat dry but also underpinned with some tremulous emotion that Jim doesn’t want to pry too closely into.

“You did a good job in my book, Bones,” Jim compliments with a wry smile, allowing his eyes to flutter close.

The doctor snorts. “And that’s all that matters,” he says, and Jim doesn’t say that there isn’t any sarcasm in the way he says it.

“Where is Spock?” Jim asks curiously, and Bones gives a small scoff. Jim cracks open an eyelid in time to see him shrug too.

“Hell if I know,” he says dismissively.

Jim frowns.

“You know I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt me,” he probes, and Bones rolls his eyes.

“Of course he didn’t. More likely to injure himself than you anyday,” he says, but Jim isn’t an idiot. He can hear underlying tension, but that’s going to have to be something that his two friends work out on their own.

“Has he been by yet?” Jim asks, and Bones shakes his head.

“I beamed us up first. You haven’t been out long, but I’m sure the hobgoblin will be along sometime soon,”

“Good,” Jim says, and lets his body slump properly, giving in to the allure of a quick rest. He comes around again to Bones none-too-gently shaking his shoulder, and Jim swats weakly at the hand bugging him.

“What is it,” he asks with a yawn, and Bones grins, a little malicious.

“Spock just beamed back onboard. He’ll be here any minute I’m sure, and I thought you might enjoy giving him a bit of surprise when he does,” 

Jim grins. “Sounds like a plan,”

He waits patiently inside the side-room, fidgeting a little as Spock’s voice rings out through the main room of med-bay, and waiting for the moment to make his move.

“-I shall order Mr Scott to take immediate command of this vessel,” Spock says sombrely, and Jim can’t take it any longer.

He steps forwards.

“Don’t you think you better check with me first?” he asks, his tone anticipatory as Spock whirls around to face him, clearly startled.

“Jim!” Spock virtually beams and Jim can’t help the answering grin that spreads across his lips. His friend’s eyes are bright with shock and joy, and Jim was planning on saying something, but he finds that the words have left him in the face of such obvious care. Spock reaches up instinctively, his hands settling on Jim’s upper arms, and it makes Jim shiver almost imperceptibly.

Behind Spock, Bones and Nurse Chapel are beaming too, but more at Spock’s reaction than anything else, and as soon as Spock notices them, he composes himself again and drops Jim’s arms. Jim shifts slightly and finds he cannot look away from Spock’s dark eyes.

They explain the situation to Spock, and Spock returns the favour. Jim mostly can’t wait until he finds an excuse to leave and talk to Spock privately, which seems to be something reciprocated if the many glances his way are any indication.

“Let’s go mind the store,” he says, and walks out the door with Spock by his side.

They leave medbay, and walk in companionable silence down the hallway. It’s like nothing ever happened, but there’s a slight vibration in the air between them that Jim cannot chalk up to anything other than emotion.

He looks both ways down the corridor, then pulls Spock off into one of the many spare briefing rooms. 

“Captain?” Spock asks in confusion, and Jim smiles at him gently.

“I’m glad that you’re okay, Spock,” he says with a smile, standing close to his friend and reaching up to set a careful hand on Spock’s cheek.

Spock closes his eyes at the touch, and something in Jim aches at the vulnerability of the gesture. 

“I too, Jim,” Spock replies quietly, and reaches up to place his own hand on top of Jim’s. The human smiles at the gesture, then notices the way that Spock’s hand trembles lightly in place. He’s never seen Spock’s hands shake before this week, but it shouldn’t be happening if Pon Farr is over.

“Spock, is something wrong?” he asks quickly, capturing the elegant hand in both of his own and drawing their hands down in between them, caressing the back of the hand gently.

“I am well,” Spock says, and Jim steps closer, scrutinising the lines of Spock’s face, wondering if this is beyond how a friend would act. Then he dismisses the thought, because it really has been a long day..

“Are you,” he says flatly, letting go of Spock’s hands and placing his own behind his back so that he won’t be tempted to touch. “Then why are your hands trembling?”

Spock stills, the tremble dying down, but Jim knows what he saw. 

“Spock, you don’t need to lie to me,” he insists, stepping closer still and causing Spock to stiffen against the wall behind him. Jim doesn’t think about how close they are, instead searching Spock’s face for something that he’s missed, but the Vulcan refuses to open his eyes.

“What’s wrong,” he asks again. Spock opens his mouth, then closes it again without saying anything, sighing instead, and opens his eyes.

“Oh Spock,” Jim breathes out as he sees the shine of Spock’s eyes, moving past the line of propriety to wrap his arms around Spock tightly and force him into a hug that they’ve never actually shared before. Spock is stiff and cool against Jim’s limbs, but the captain doesn’t think that it’s out of reluctance but more retiticence.

He lets go of Spock after a long moment, drawing back and giving him an understanding smile. “I’m okay. You didn’t kill me,”

“I thought I had,” Spock admits quietly, pain evident in his voice, and Jim can’t help but reach up and wipe away the moisture that threatens to spill, the soft skin of Spock’s cheek satin against his calloused thumb.

“But you didn’t. I’m okay,” he reassures, and Spock looks directly at him for the first time since they left medbay.

“Yes,” he says simply, and Jim realises again how close they are. The air feels electric between them, and he wonders if Spock can feel the strange draw too, because he is  _ right there _ -

“I better get to the bridge,” Jim panics and steps back, letting go of Spock and sending him a fleeting smile that doesn’t nearly cover the depth of what has passed between them.

“Indeed,” Spock says quietly, not reaching out for Jim as they draw apart. 

Jim wonders if he wishes that Spock would, and then dismisses the thought as fast as he can.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but ultimately just turns on his heel and flees from the suddenly small room. Jim Kirk is not a man that many would call a coward, but it's the only term that he can think of as he rushes down the corridor.

Coward.

* * *

Love:

Jim isn’t avoiding Spock, not really. Sure, he puts himself on Beta shift for a little while, but that has nothing to do with the fact that Spock tends to work in Alpha and Gamma shifts. Yes, he starts eating food in rec room 2 rather than the main hall, but that’s because he likes privacy sometimes.

It’s got nothing to do with the fact that the last time he saw Spock, he thinks he was going to kiss him.

Jim doesn’t usually run from his emotions. If it’s to do with a girl, he normally just tries to woo her and see where it gets him. Hell, even on the few occasions he’s felt something towards a guy, he tends to go for the flirtatious approach and hope for the best.

He isn’t given to...mooning over people.

He tries his best not to think about his reasons for action most days. He manages with varying degrees of success (which is to say he manages to forget when he’s particularly busy or practically dead to the world), and then he runs into a Spock who is, quite literally, from another universe.

“A man of integrity, in both worlds,” he says with a smile, and Spock does not quite meet his eyes.

“You must return to your universe. I must have my captain back,” he says instead, and Jim doesn’t quite catch that until he’s standing at the transporter, ready to beam away from a world where he is cruel, where the Federation destroys entire planets, where Spock has a beard.

But- this mirror Spock had said ‘my’.

Jim rematerialises on his own ship, and is met with the welcome sight of Spock stood in front of them, dressed in the right uniform and without a beard.

“Spock,” he says instinctively, and Spock looks back at him.

“Welcome home, Captain,” Spock says, and Jim meets his gaze evenly, as he hasn’t done in weeks. It seems a little like he’s been running from something that he can’t escape, and also from something that he doesn’t really want to escape.

He steps off the platform and leads out of the room, Spock falling in behind him as always, and the rest of the party following behind. He glances around, and motions Spock forwards slightly.

“We need to talk,” he says quietly, and Spock raises an eyebrow, his face otherwise remaining completely expressionless, even to Jim, and nods.

They go through their usual charade on the bridge, sticking around long enough to see the planet get lost behind them, and then Jim fakes a yawn (which isn’t that difficult) and stands to allow Sulu to take the bridge.

“I think I might turn in,” he says with a smile to his crew, who nod back at him. They are mostly waiting on the relief, because it’s been a long day. 

He nods to Spock, who stands up to follow him off the bridge, and Jim wonders if they ought to be more subtle for a moment, and then decides that his crew probably will find out pretty quickly anyway. Also, it’s not like them leaving together is that out of the ordinary (and how had it taken over a year for him to realise that he doesn’t merely feel platonic affection or interest?).

He shakes the thoughts out of his mind as the two of them enter the lift together, travelling down to their adjoining rooms, and then by wordless consent, Spock follows Jim into his room. 

Jim exhales a sigh as he allows himself to flop into a chair, tiredness beginning to creep up on him, and only Spock present now. He knows he can always trust Spock, apparently no matter the universe.

“Captain?” Spock says, standing in the middle of the room, and Jim motions to the chair opposite with a smile.

“Sit, Spock, please. I think we have some things to discuss,” he says, and Spock takes his seat silently.

“An interesting day,” Spock observes, and Jim nods with a suppressed yawn. 

“You can say that again,” he grins, propping his head up on one of his hands and focusing his attention on Spock. “Your counterpart was quite intriguing,”

“As was yours,” Spock says, and Jim frowns a little, having not thought of the fact that the alternate Jim may also have given something away just as the alternate Spock had. Especially knowing that he himself was far less subtle than his friend.

“Is that so?” he probes obviously, and Spock inclines his head slightly.

“What was it you wished to discuss?” he asks instead of continuing the previous line, and Jim hopes that this whole thing between them hasn’t just been in his imagination.

“Well...I wanted to apologise,” JIm hedges a little, not really sure how to begin.

“What for, captain?” Spock asks, and Jim smiles wryly.

“I think that if there was ever a time to call me Jim, this might be it,” he says, and Spock frowns, looking a little confused.

“I’m doing this all wrong,” Jim sighs, and leans forwards a little, forcing away his previous tiredness. “Spock, I think I might be in love with you,” He announces.

Spock does not move a muscle. Jim smiles slightly, watching the Vulcan’s face flicker with emotions too fast to name, and waits his response. He could have misjudged everything leading them to where they are, but Jim doesn't think he has. It’s hard to put a finger on it, but there is something between them. He’s sure of it.

“If you don’t feel the same way, I won’t ever mention it again,” Jim offers. “But you aren’t bound to anyone else, Spock. You aren’t on Vulcan anymore,” 

Spock moves only a little, his eyes flicking up to meet Jim’s, and Jim pours every inch of his emotion into his gaze, then suddenly thinking of something and reaching slowly across the table to hold Spock’s hand. He’s read up on Vulcan biology, and Spock is a touch telepath, and maybe, just maybe…

“Jim,” Spock says quietly, his gaze now focused on their hands, then looks up to meet his eyes again, and moves his hand away.

Jim has a second to feel completely crushed before he sees what Spock is doing. Moving his hand across the table with two fingers outstretched.

“Spock,” Jim breathes out quietly, drawing his own hand in and tremblingly reaching out to meet his friend’s. His lover’s.

Spock smiles slightly, but Jim doesn’t pay all that much attention to the expression on Spocks’ face anymore. He’s good at keeping his emotions hidden there, so Jim has learnt to look at his eyes instead.

He’s basically an expert at reading Spock by this point.

And he’s fairly sure that what he reads right now is love.


End file.
